Celluloid Memories
by Kuriyami
Summary: [ RENT ] One shot song fic. Mark takes out old films of Angel. Between her death and the funeral. You know summaries from me don't sound so good.


I've been thinking about Angel lately, and I've been pretty Markish on top of it. So, this came out of the woodwork after a week plus of writer's block.

The random dialogue snippets are just Angel and Mark talking while he's filming, just to clear confusion. Again, it's rather angsty, because I seem to be a total angst queen. This also ties in a little with _Forgiven; _the Angel/Roger scene from the end was snuck in. Because I liked it so much.

**Disclaimer: **The song is _Let Go_ by Frou Frou, and all the lyrics are in italics, so we know who to credit! And Jonathan Larson owns these characters, not me, I just write about them.

* * *

Mark had never gotten the perfect shot of Angel. 

He had an amazing amount of film that had her in it; she had so much energy, and she didn't mind being in front of the camera, didn't mind being filmed constantly. Mark knew Angel loved it, the idea of her image being forever immortalized on film.

Immortalized. How ironic she was to die so soon, so much sooner than the rest of them.

_Drink up, baby, down  
__Are you in or are you out?  
__Leave your things behind  
__Because it's all going off without you_

He had watched them one night when he was sure Roger was asleep and his door was blocked by his dresser, since the lock never seemed to work. So many images of her smiling, twirling, laughing, drumming. With Collins, without Collins, hugging Mimi, flirting with Roger, dancing with Maureen. Some of it Mark didn't even know he filmed.

"Mark," she said once when he had the camera on her. Roger was at the store with Collins, who insisted the boy get out of the loft for once.

Mark looked up at her. "What is it?" he said, obviously occupied with his camera.

"Do you ever think you're missing something?" The question wasn't what took him by surprise, but because it came from Angel. Collins might say something like that, Roger if he was in a brooding mood. It wasn't really an Angel type question.

"Missing something?" he repeated, and Angel just smiled.

"Like the world's going on without you?"

"Why...why would you ask that, Angel?" He cocked his head slightly, one part of his scarf spilling down the front of his shirt. She looked at him a few minutes, than just shrugged.

"I'm now sure. Sometimes I think you feel left out, always being behind the camera and never in front." She laughed, and smiled sheepishly. "I'm thinking too much again! I've got to stop doing that!" And the subject was dropped, never again to come back to focus. Sometimes before he went to bed, the short conversation would surface from his subconscious, haunt him a little. Especially after her death.

_Excuse me, too busy  
__You're writing your tragedy  
__These mishaps you bubble wrap  
__When you have no idea what you're like..._

Mark couldn't really hold himself together. Angel was the embodiment of their friendship, their happiness and joy and love all in one. She was compassion, she was inspiration, she was beautiful. Collins asked Mark if he had any films of Angel. Mark gave some of them, not all. The rest he would watch when he had insomnia. He'd make sure everything was quiet, everything was turned down so Roger wouldn't hear or wake up. And he'd watch all of them at happier times, maybe cry a little in the moonbeams.

Angel often said she didn't hold it all together, that she just helped everyone when they needed help. But, she was. Even enough she wouldn't admit it.

"Do you know what you're like, Mark?"

"What am I like?"

"...Special."

"I-I'm not special."

"We're all special, honey. But I think maybe sometimes people need to hear it for them to actually accept it, you know?" So kind, so sweet, no wonder you were so quickly snatched away from us.

_So let go, let go  
__Jump in  
__Well, what cha waiting for?  
__It's all right  
_'_Cause there's beauty in the breakdown_

Mark had all these movies, but he still hadn't got the perfect shot. Not of Angel. He had gotten ones of the others.

Click. Mimi drinking hot chocolate with the moonlight illuminating her face.

Click. Roger playing the guitar softly with the sunset lighting him on fire.

Click. Collins looking up at the overcast sky and smiling.

Click. Maureen smiling, not being a diva, but just simply smiling and laughing.

Click. Joanne looking wistfully at her Doc Martins with a sweet half-smile on her face.

But where was Angel's perfect shot? Mark felt like crying. He had spent so much time with her in front of the camera, but there was no shot to be found.

_So let go, let go  
__Just get in  
__Oh, it's so amazing here  
__It's all right  
__Because there's beauty in the breakdown_

"Marky, sometimes I'm not sure how much longer I'm going to live."

"Don't talk like that, Angel."

"But it's true, and what would the world be without some truth, sweetie? ...You've been filming me for a long time."

"I know."

"...It's nice to know I'll still be around, you know? Lasting forever in your camera. It's a nice feeling." Angel, how could you leave us so quickly, right when we needed you the most? Why did they kidnap you when you had so much still to live for? So much still to love and be loved in return.

_It gains the more it gives  
__Then it rises with the fall  
__So hand me that remote;  
__Can't you see that all that stuff's a sideshow?_

Angel could either let you down gently or egg you on. She never seemed mean, though. Never. Somehow, she managed to be a saint through it all. It was a fitting name, Angel. Mark remembered when he asked her about that once.

"Angel, is that your real name?"

"Ha! Why do you ask, honey?"

"I...I just wanted to know."

"Oh, don't blush! Trust me, I've gotten the question _hundreds_ of times. ...Don't ever be afraid to ask me a question. Okay?"

"...Okay."

"There. That smile looks wonderful on you, Marky. ...Gah! Your cheeks are red again!" He liked going back and watching these films, remembering these times. It did make him sad—why wouldn't Mark feel grief watching this?—but he loved it all the same.

_Such boundless pleasure  
__We've no time for later  
__Now you can't await your own arrival  
__You've twenty seconds to comply_

"Sometimes you just have to let go, Mark."

"Huh?"

"A person isn't an island, hon. You can't keep your feelings in forever. They've got to come out sometimes. Bad feelings inside just...eat you up."

"I never see you have any bad feelings, Angel."

"Oh, I just never let it out in front of you guys! Collins has seen me on some bad days. But mostly I just sing to let it out."

"Sing?"

"Sure! I love singing, so what better way to let go than to sing it all away?"

"...Could I film you singing?"

"Of course you can, sweetie! You never have to ask. Just roll the camera, Mark, and I'll do the rest." After that, he filmed a lot of Angel singing. She had a beautiful voice.

An angel's voice.

_So let go, let go  
__Jump in  
__Oh, well, what cha waiting for?  
__It's all right  
_'_Cause there's beauty in the breakdown_

One time, Mark had filmed secretly. He never showed Roger, because Roger would kill him. Roger thought Mark was asleep. He had started sobbing in the main room of the loft. Mark hadn't forgotten. April. April, the tragic girl with flowers in her hair and blood at her wrists. Roger only cried that hard for April. Then, a knock at the door. Mark peeked out to see who it was.

Angel. It was pretty late for her to be showing up. They talked, Roger whispered something bitter and horrible and tried to shut the door. But Angel stepped smoothly in and hugged him. Mark grabbed his camera as Angel started to hum something soft and sweet, a beautiful song of lost loves, of tears and blood, of rising and falling with the tide. He sat there and filmed. Neither payed much attention to his slightly opened door, and that moment was something Mark would always remember, both friends crumpled on the floor, lost in their agony and that gentle song of something found and something lost.

_So let go, yeah, let go  
__Just get in  
__Oh, it's so amazing here  
__It's all right  
__Because there's beauty in the breakdown_

"Mark, I hope that one day you'll make a film with all of us. So we can watch it when we're old and wrinkly and stuff and remember how fun we were. Will you do that?"

"Of course I will!"

"Haha! You sound like you've thought about it before."

"I have. For a long time, actually."

"Well, you should follow through, dear. I'm sure we'd love anything you did. Oh, honey! You're blushing again!"

_So let go, so let go  
__Jump in  
__Oh, well, what cha waiting for?  
__It's all right  
__Because there's beauty in the breakdown_

Mark was on the last reel. A pile of them was sitting to his right. This one was curiously marked, "Truth". Mark had no idea what he meant. It had been sitting for a while, though. He hoped it still played right.

The film rolled on.

_So let go, yeah, let go  
__Just get in  
__Oh, it's so amazing here  
__It's all right  
_'_Cause there's beauty in the breakdown_

"Angel, mind if I film you?" A slight smile as she watched him sit down.

"Not at all, Mark."

"What are you doing?" Again, that smile.

"Just thinking."

_In the breakdown  
__Because there's beauty in the breakdown  
__The breakdown_

And Mark watched as the shot unraveled before his eyes. Angel looked out the window, and for a few seconds she dwelled inward, Mark could see it in her face. And in that moment...

That moment time froze, captured by the slick lens of the camera.

Her face opened up, smile gone. And it looked as if she was about to cry. And Mark saw through all the smiles, all the laughter, saw through it all to just a scared boy—no, a scared _girl_—who was afraid to die. Afraid to die when she wanted to live. As he watched it, Mark felt the tears slip down his cheeks and splash on his hands. It was so beautiful and so cruel at the same time, so heartbreaking to watch. And he could see her almost about to cry...but then Angel looked to the camera and smiled the most dazzling smile she could. But it was still in her eyes, that feeling, that fear. But her smile was so exquisite, so lovely.

And it ended.

_So amazing here_

Mark couldn't help but sob in the darkness afterwards.

'_Cause there's beauty in the breakdown_

He had found the perfect shot.

Click.

_-fin._

* * *

I'm a review whore. 


End file.
